Buy A Girl With Pearls
by Ms.ChanningTatum
Summary: He knew there was something different about her. The fact that she had the balls to wear his mother's necklace right after she stole it didn't smother his curiosity either. He promised himself he wasn't going to lose her. Not now, not ever. And certainly not to Bane. Bruce/Selina. Major spoilers for TDKR.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So after watching the fantastic finale to a glorious trilogy, I had to write this. This is going to be one of my longer stories, though every chapter won't be as long as this one. Please let me know what you think, because I write these stories for you people to read and enjoy :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is or related to Christopher Nolan's Batman trilogy or the DC Comics.**

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Chapter One_  
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"Good night, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce watched in silent shock from his sprawled out position on the floor as the maid gracefully flipped herself backwards out of his window. In heels. With his mother's pearls.

He slowly stood, grabbing his cane from where it fell and trying to keep as much weight off of his bad leg as possible, limped over to the window. Who the hell _was _that woman? Clearly she wasn't one of the maids. No maid he had ever met could vault herself out a four-story window, let alone in heels. He saw no sign of her below, but that didn't mean much other than she hadn't died on impact.

Several years ago, he probably would have been able to make that landing too.

He narrowed his eyes and shut the window forcefully. He didn't want to think about the past. _Think about the present_. She had gotten away with his mother's pearl necklace. His _mother's_ pearl necklace.

He limped over to the cabinet and bent down to look at the safe, noting the lack of damage done to the safe itself.

_Uncrackable my ass_. It had been not even ten minutes since he heard the door to the wing open before he went to see what food had been brought for him. That left the maid roughly eight minutes to crack the supposedly uncrackable safe. Not even the best professional safe-crackers could open this model in that small window of time.

He examined the inside of the safe quickly before pulling out the contents. He inventoried everything, checking to make sure it was all there before putting it all back. The only thing that was missing was the necklace.

His mother's dramatically expensive and incredibly rare white pearl necklace.

Anger made his skin flush red as the frustration gnawed at his insides. His mother had adored that necklace. That was one of the reasons he kept it locked in a separate safe, away from the other priceless jewelry he had in his collection.

He remembered when he was a kid his mother would only wear that necklace when the occasion was exceptionally special. Never out to dinners with clients, or to board meetings, or to press conferences. He remembered her wearing it when they went out as a family or when they spent time together. He vividly remembered her wearing it on every single one of his birthdays.

And some acrobatic bitch dressed up as a maid had stolen it.

He glared over at the window for a second before turning his gaze back to the safe. The empty space where the necklace should have been openly taunted him, shoving yet another failure in his face. He glared reflexively before quickly grabbing the safe door and slamming it shut with an audible bang.

The sound rang throughout the room with a slight echo, as the room was mostly unfurnished, and the safe door bounced back open slightly. He huffed before gently pushing the door closed, observing impassively that the safe could no longer latch shut. Now he was going to have to replace it. He pulled his hand away, and saw faint black dust clinging onto his finger pads.

He gazed confusingly at his fingers before wiping them along the number pad on the safe. More black powder rubbed off. He brought his fingers up to his nose, inhaling sharply while rubbing his fingers together slightly. Fingerprinting dust.

She dusted for prints? What kind of a thief dusted for prints? Bruce thought back to all the times this safe had been opened. He thought the only fingerprints on this safe belonged to him, but couldn't be sure. The prints must have been what she had originally came for, because no thief would be stupid enough to steal something and stay long enough to dust for prints. But what did she gain from taking his fingerprints?

Slow, even footsteps echoed in the hall outside, signaling the arrival of Alfred. He furrowed his brows and stood up to meet the butler. How many times had he told Alfred to keep the maids out of this side of the house? And now one of them had gotten away with an expensive piece that he had valued personally for years.

"That maid you let in here stole the necklace."

Alfred appeared in the doorway, a look of surprise crossing his face before he adopted a more neutral expression, his voice also void of any emotion. "Master Wayne, I thought that particular safe was to be uncrackable, even by the best."

"Yeah, it was. Until she cracked it in under ten minutes. What have I told you about keeping the maids out of this wing?"

"Have you alerted the authorities yet, sir?" _Deflection_. As always. But he let it slide. As always.

Bruce rolled his eyes and gave Alfred a look. "No. That'll just push her underground."

"The necklace contained a tracking device, did it not?"

Bruce sighed and nodded once before moving back over to the safe to take another look. "Yeah, I'll check the data in the morning to see where she brought it."

He turned and looked at Alfred over his shoulder. "You haven't opened this safe recently, have you?"

"No, I haven't. Not in a very long while. May I ask why?"

He turned back to the safe, reexamining the number pad. "She dusted for prints."

"Fingerprints? Whatever for?"

Bruce rubbed his fingers over the number pads, making sure they were completely covered in the black powder before standing back up. "No idea." He limped slowly back towards one of the halls leading to a master bedroom.

Alfred shook his head slightly before walking over to the drawing room doorway, looking at the untouched tray of food. "Am I to assume you will no longer be eating tonight?"

Bruce didn't glance back. "Goodnight, Alfred."

Alfred gazed speculatively at the food, silently promising to bring a bigger serving of breakfast in the morning than usual as he picked up the tray of cold, uneaten food and made his way over to the main door.

Bruce waited until he heard the solid bang of the doors closing and the loud click of the lock before he stopped in the middle of a dark hallway. He brought the hand covered in black powder up to his face, staring at it as he rubbed his fingers together slightly.

Why would she want his fingerprints? Yeah sure, he was wealthy and held some power, even if he hadn't been seen in the public eye for a number of years. But surely there were far easier ways of getting his power or money that didn't include his fingerprints. The hand on his cane tightened, making the joints ache and turning his knuckles white.

What was so special about his fingerprints?

He glanced down the hallway towards the master bedroom before promptly turning around and limping back towards the main drawing room. He crossed the room, checking to make sure Alfred really did leave before taking several turns down multiple hallways, each hallway looking similar to the last.

When he arrived in a large, narrow room, he slowed his pace to a stop. All the furnishings in the room had been covered with white drapes, making the room look rather barren and unused. A bookcase spanned the length of the farthest wall, its books covered in a fine layer of dust. The one thing uncovered was a simple, black piano off to the right.

He smiled slightly before making his way over to the piano. He placed his cane on top, being careful not to scratch the surface and lifted the cover off the keys. The white and black keys glittered up at him as if they had been polished yesterday.

He took in a deep breath before playing a three-note chord with his clean hand. The farthest panel on the bookcase popped open with a snap and a whoosh of stale air wafted into the room. He lowered the cover and grabbed his cane, but made no move toward the bookcase.

Was he really going to do this? He hadn't even thought about the cave in months, let alone been down there in years. A smug grin on a pretty face and his mother's necklace sitting delicately around a slim neck flashed in his mind. The anger he felt before still hadn't gone away; instead it festered in his mind, fueling his desire to retrieve the one piece of his mother that he cherished.

He focused on the bookcase again and steeled his will, limping towards the open secret door. It would be too much walking for him to turn around and go back to bed now. And he desperately wanted answers. Plus, he was already here. Might as well go down.

The secret room was actually a short hallway which led to a secure elevator. He typed a six-digit authorization code into the number pad and watched the elevator doors open. He stepped inside and let the doors shut behind him.

It was dark except for the white track lighting installed along the ceiling and floor trim. He reached out a hand to the wall to keep his balance once the elevator started its descent. After a minute or two, the elevator stopped moving and the doors opened with a small ping.

A gust of cool, moist air hit his face, sending a small shiver through his spine. The sound of water crashing into solid rock vibrated through his ears. His robe billowed behind him as he limped forward through the stone arch, coming to a huge underground cavern filled with water. Platforms held tables with huge computer screens, keyboards, and other various equipment, a lone black chair placed in front of them. As he came closer, more black platforms and bridges rose from the water.

For the first time in the last several years, a huge, giddy grin split Bruce's face, making his eyes light up and his cheek muscles hurt.

He moved carefully over to the monitors and sat down in the chair quickly, hooking his cane onto the edge of the table and sinking gratefully into the soft, comfortable cushions. That was probably the most walking and standing he had done in the last couple of months and it left a deep ache in his muscles.

He spun around in the chair once, taking in the view quickly before turning back towards the monitors, turning them all on one by one. The quiet hum of the computers was a welcomed sound that he wasn't aware he had missed until now.

While the computers warmed up, he turned to admire the waterfall. The entrance to the cave was straight ahead a couple hundred feet, hidden from the world by a giant waterfall. The water thundered down until it reached the water on the ground, creating large waves and steam clouds. The waves rolled back towards the platform, calming until they were just small ripples. This was one of the few things he found calming in the world.

And he had neglected to see it for years.

Because Batman had retired.

He shook his head and turned back to the monitors, sitting up in the chair and focusing his mind. He took a sample of the fingerprinting dust from his fingers and began to analyze it, wiping his hand clean on his flannel bottoms. A few minutes later the machine beeped, popping up the results on one of the monitors. Aluminum dust and graphite.

Virtually untraceable.

He sighed and ran a hand over his face. He wasn't surprised; he knew there was no way she would make this easy on him. But it still would have been nice if she had.

He set the results aside and pulled up the tracking data from the necklace. A red dot blinked out the current location. A small building in Oldtown. He cross referenced the address with the police database and came back with a positive picture and name.

Selina Kyle.

He smirked at the picture from the police files. Even in her mugshot, she looked fearless. He raised his eyebrow as he read the charges against her. Stealing. Stealing. Stealing. Assault. Stealing. Assault of a police officer. Hasn't been caught recently, but most of her fences have.

She was a professional thief, then. That explains how she managed to crack his uncrackable safe, but not why she wanted his fingerprints. He pulled up the news articles attached to her file and raised an eyebrow at the headlines. _Cat Burglar_. Seems he wasn't the only one who took to a name.

He looked at the blinking red dot, imagining the pearl necklace dangling between her fingers. She wouldn't fence it, though she would get a hell of a lot of money if she did. He remembered the way she fingered the pearls while it was on her neck. She liked that necklace far to much to ever fence it. Which meant he actually had a chance of getting it back from her.

She was bound to wear the necklace again, after all.

He leaned back in his seat so he was slouching into the cushions before glancing over at the digital clock on the closest monitor. His anger had mostly evaporated, but his frustration was still there. He might as well just stay here and wait for Alfred to come find him. He imagined the old butler's face when he discovered his bed was all made up and he was nowhere to found.

Just like old times.

He smirked and relaxed into the chair, closing his eyes and listening to the soothing sound of the water falling down into the cave. Maybe he could get some shut-eye before Alfred found him.

* * *

Three days later, he found himself staking out a fancy, social-climbing private charity ball in his silver Lamborghini, wondering how in the world he was motivated to get out of his house for the first time in years.

Alfred was just ecstatic when Bruce told him he was going out tonight. Practically tripping over himself trying to help him get ready. Bruce just shook his head fondly, but with more exasperation than anything. Naturally, Alfred had inquired about Bruce's sudden desire to rejoin the outside world, and he had cleverly just said to stock it up to finally getting stir-crazy.

Of course, if Alfred knew the real reason why he was staking out a charity ball in his silver Lamborghini on a Tuesday night, he would have no doubt started planning a wedding.

But he needed that necklace back.

Bruce rechecked the tracking device form his cell phone, making sure Selina hadn't moved from inside the large building. He had seen her walk in with some wealthy, old man on her arm and the necklace sitting around her neck around a half hour ago. He didn't want to rush in right after her when her guard was up. Not that it would ever drop, but he wanted a few drinks in her before he waltzed in.

Well, maybe not waltz. He rubbed his bad leg, glancing at his cane in the passenger seat. It really was a pain, being crippled. Figuratively and literally. But he couldn't seem to bring himself to care.

Actually if he thought about it, the necklace being stolen was the first thing he's cared about in a long time. If it was any other piece of jewelry, he probably would have been mad, sure, but he would have made Alfred speak to the authorities and then expect them to never find it again. And he would have gone back to his routine of doing nothing all day, every day, probably forgetting all about it. Instead, he's staking out the place where the thief had the stolen property, and planning on taking the stolen property back _himself_.

But he didn't want to think about it.

Bruce watched as another car pulled away from the curb, and another wealthy couple walked up to the doors, stopping quickly to get their pictures taken by the press and to hand their keys over to the valet before continuing into the entryway.

_Now or never_. He started up the car, smiling a little to himself as he heard the engine purr to life before maneuvering into the busy street. Another thing he missed after being shut up in his house for years: the purring sound this car made when he revved the engine. It really was a fine piece of Italian engineering, and worth every dime he paid for it.

He pulled up to the curb in front of the valet, and checking to make sure he had the high-frequency pulse device in his pocket, grabbed his cane from the passenger seat. He took a deep breath, making sure his face was void of any emotion, before opening up the car door.

There was a second of silence as he climbed out of his car before bright flashes and loud clicks assaulted him, blinding him and forcing him to hold his hand above his eyes. Reporters called out his name and urged for more pictures. He quickly reached in his pocket for the device, taking it out and clicking the button. As suddenly as the lights flashed on, they shut off. The reporters blinked owlishly at their cameras and each other, trying to make sense of what just happened.

Bruce used that stunned silence to hand his keys to the shocked valet. "Don't scratch it." The valet nodded his head vigorously, handing him his ticket before walking speedily to the car.

Getting past the hostess with the list wasn't hard; he just flashed a charming smile at the young woman and promised to donate a large sum of money before the end of the night in honor of whoever was holding this charity ball – and promised to double it if she kept the press out of the ballroom. She let him pass with a smile and a giggle.

The spacious entrance hall changed into a more humble corridor before opening up into an extravagant ball room, complete with a full bar and buffet. Two wide staircases swung outward slightly as they led down onto the dance floor where many couples were dancing to a fairly upbeat song provided by the small orchestra placed off to one side. The walls were lined with large tables where other couples were grouped together, watching others dance while they ate finger food and drank expensive booze. Bruce cringed slightly as a couple walked past him.

He'd forgotten how much he despised going to these types of things.

He made his way down the stairs – _of course_ there was no elevator for him to use – and discreetly searched the room for any signs of Kyle. His plan was rough at best, if it could even be called a plan. Get in, find Kyle, get the necklace, get out. Preferably before anyone could recognize him.

He scoped out the room one more time before moving toward the bar at the back of the room. He ordered a scotch on the rocks from the bartender before turning to face the room and leaning against the bar, shifting most of his weight off his bad leg. This spot gave him the best vantage point of the whole room.

His eyes shifted from the people standing and talking near the tables to the dance floor. Instinct that had long been buried inside him reasoned that a woman like her would rather be dancing for as long as possible instead of standing around talking to rich people and listening to their mediocre problems.

It couldn't have been fifteen seconds later that he saw her. It was only a glimpse between other couples, but that was enough.

She was dancing with the older man off to the right, her hands clasped around his neck and his hands holding onto her waist. She was in a black, knee-length silk dress that clung shapely to her curves, her hair done up in an elaborate bun and her lips as blood-red as they had been before. On her feet were tall stilettos. And around her neck was the pearl necklace.

The bartender set down his tumbler next to his elbow. He absently pulled a fifty out of his pocket and handed it to the bartender, his eyes searching for her again. He picked up his glass and took a large swig, not even blinking at the sharp burn in his throat from the alcohol.

He was able to catch a few glimpses of her in between other couples as they danced around the floor. She gave her date small smiles as they chatted and attempted to look embarrassed when he so obviously complimented her. She was playing the small, mousy arm candy well. He knew from fact that her mousy personality was completely fake.

_She has balls_. That thought had been with him since the tracker showed movements in the necklace's whereabouts. She was certainly cocky, that was for sure. She must had assumed that he wouldn't come looking for the necklace, or else she wouldn't have wore it a mere three days after stealing it. If she was brazen enough to wear the necklace while still impersonating one of his maids, then how ballsy would she be when confronted about it in front of hundreds of people?

The music shifted from the steady, upbeat tempo to a slower, relaxed one. Many couples joined the dance floor, but only a handful left, Kyle and her date being one of them. He watched them leave and took one more gulp of his drink before setting it down on the bar and picking up his change, slipping it back into his pocket.

_Time to find out_.

He made his way over to them as quickly as he dared, without looking suspicious. Kyle and her date were slowly making their way off the dance floor, making it easier for him to catch up to them.

Even as he walked up to them from an angle, he saw Kyle's head look up and turn toward him slightly. He could almost identify the exact millisecond she recognized him, because her eyes went wide and her spine stiffened immediately. Their eyes locked for a second before she visibly made herself look back towards her date.

Looks like his surprise appearance shook her up a little. Good. Her date didn't seem to notice the shift in her body - or didn't care - because he kept plowing on with whatever he was saying. They were about to move off the slightly raised hardwood floor when he gracefully stepped up to them, subtly stepping directly into Kyle's path.

"Mind if I cut in?" He asked the question to the old man, but kept his eyes on Kyle. His voice, however, left no room for argument. The old man stuttered slightly at the abruptness of his appearance, but made no objection.

Bruce smirked at Kyle, and without removing his eyes from hers, shoved his cane at the old man and held out his hand for her to take, silently showing her that there was no where for her to run. Her eyes quickly shifted from him to the old man, then back to him before she took his hand.

His smirk widened as he led her out into the center of the dance floor before taking her left hand in his and settling his right low on her waist. Her right arm went up around the back of his neck, her fingers gently resting above one of his pressure points. He understood the silent threat perfectly, but it failed to do anything but amuse him. His smirk became a full smile when he saw her frown slightly.

He broke the silence first, keeping his voice light. "You don't look very happy to see me." She shot him an annoyed look.

"You were supposed to be a hermit buried under a rock," she replied easily, though her muscles betrayed the tension she felt.

"Sorry to disappoint," he drawled, his tone not apologetic in the slightest. "After you cracked open the window, I thought it would be good idea to get some fresh air."

Her mouth turned upward, displaying the same manipulative smirk he saw in his house. As they spun around a particularly drunk couple, her eyes gained a slight twinkle of mirth. "So I'm the reason you left your little hovel for the first time in years? I'm touched."

_Damn. _He walked right into that one. "You really shouldn't be, since I didn't leave my house for you."

"No, just for something I stole." He didn't deny that. Instead, he spun her around and brought her closer to him, making sure to leave at least an inch of air between their bodies. His eyes wandered over her head to stare at the old man getting food from the buffet.

"Who's your date?"

"Hes the primary business manager for a high-end technological research corporation -"

"Ah, a businessman."

"- who doesn't mind mixing his business with a little bit of _pleasure_." She closed the space between their bodies, rolling her hips slightly into his to emphasize the last word. He had to resist the strong urge to swallow. So that's how she thought she was going to get back the upper hand? By seducing him? Make him want something other than the necklace? His will was stronger than _that_, even if it had been awhile.

A _very_ long while, his brain mentally noted for him as she rolled her hips again, grinding slightly harder than last time. He quietly cleared his throat before he spoke. "And why would you be interested in a businessman? That doesn't really seem like your type of playground."

"Well, his wife left just last night for a week long cruise in the Caribbean, and decided it would be better if she left her diamond earrings and necklace at home." Her lips moved closer to his ear. "Afraid they might get stolen."

_Of course she was trying to steal something. _He smirked at that and spun her once more, moving his hand from her waist to her lower back. "That sounds more like you." His thumb moved in small circles over the silk on her back. Two could play this game. Just because he stopped playing doesn't mean he forgot how to play.

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Oh please, Bruce Wayne, you don't know the first thing about me."

It was his turn to move his head down to her ear. "Well, Selina Kyle," he whispered, smiling mentally when he heard her sharp intake of breath, "I know a lot more about you than you may think."

"I know that you get a thrill out of stealing precious items with a lot of worth from wealthy people," he continued in a hushed tone, making sure his hot breath hit her ear in that one spot that made all women react. He grinned triumphantly when he felt the tiniest shiver run through her. She was good, but he was better. "I know that you dress up in all black and earned yourself the name Catwoman," he let his lips graze the side of her neck, "and I also know that you're either saving up for retirement, or you donate the pieces that you steal, judging by the size and place of your home in Oldtown."

He moved his head away, staring into her shocked face before she masked her expression into one of indifference. Her eyes burned with an intense heat that threatened to take over her temper. "That's all you people do, isn't it? Judge." Oh, touched a nerve. The question was obviously rhetorical, so he didn't bother responding.

She let her eyes stray from his face for the first time as she tried to collect herself. "Any moron with internet access could find out everything about a person if they truly wanted to."

"But they could only get so far before being stonewalled. I have a powerful friend who was able to retrieve every single scrap of information about you, on the record and off." His friend was retired, but she didn't need to know that. His gaze moved from her face down to the necklace around her neck for the first time since they started dancing. She must have noticed, because her eyes narrowed.

"That must be one powerful friend." Her voice was inquisitive over the faintly veiled anger.

He ignored her comment. "Those do look better on you than they did in my safe. But I really can't allow you to keep them." His hand moved from her back to cup the very base of her neck, deft fingers quickly unlatching the necklace and slipping it into his jacket sleeve before anyone could notice.

The song slowly came to an end, and the couples closest to them started to separate and leave the dance floor. Bruce could see the old man reappearing over her shoulder with a glass of something in one hand and his cane in the other, no doubt waiting for him to hand back his date.

The look in her eyes was deadly as he moved his arm to his side, letting the necklace fall from his sleeve into his pocket. Her face was the perfect image of amusement, though, as she gave him one last smirk. "I'll be back for those."

Before he could react to the blatant threat, she molded her body flush against his and moved her hands up to pull his neck forward, slamming her lips onto his mouth and biting his lower lip sharply before pulling away just as quickly, holding onto his lip with her teeth before it slid out. Her lips moved over to his ear, her tongue flicking out to lick at the lobe. "You can count on it."

The next second she pulled away completely, walking off the dance floor in even steps with a sway in her hips. One that he could have sworn wasn't there before. She turned slightly to throw him a glance over her shoulder.

"Thanks for the dance."

Then she was gone.

Lost in the crowd of people moving over the dance floor. He stood there in shock, staring at the last place he saw her. His abused lip stung, and he ran his tongue along it to sooth it. The old man hurried up to him and shoved his cane back into his arms. "Thanks a lot, you scared her off!" he accused, slurring his words slightly as he started frantically searching the crowd for her, moving off in the completely wrong direction while muttering to himself. Bruce didn't even notice.

_That was one hell of a kiss_. She kissed like her personality: Strong, rough, and full of passion. He heard the next song start, but he couldn't bring himself to move just yet.

Sure, they had briefly played the game of seduction, but he hadn't honestly expected her to kiss him. And certainly not so brutally. With a stab of annoyance, he realized that she wanted to leave him wanting more. Frustration welled up in him when he realized that he actually _wanted_ more. The insistent pain in his leg finally forced him to move off the dance floor and out of the way of the dancers.

He collected himself and made his way back towards the way he entered. He touched the pocket with the necklace in it, making sure it was really there before letting out a small sigh. At least he had gotten the necklace back. Which was why he was here in the first place. Now all he wanted to do was go home and sleep.

Which, after a brief conversation with that _fucking_ valet and a mostly one-sided conversation with Alfred over the phone, sounded like the best thing in the world.

_That pick-pocketing bitch._ Of course the only reason she kissed him was to distract him from the fact that she stole his valet ticket. He took back the necklace, so she stole his car. His fucking car. Now he was forced to wait in the main entrance hall for Alfred to show up with a car to drive him home. God, she had major balls.

Several minutes later, Alfred showed up in one of their more conservative cars. As Bruce slid into the backseat, Alfred made some half-assed remark about coming home alone and not being able to get back into the game. Bruce let it slide – like he always did – since he did wake Alfred in the middle of the night to come pick him up because he let the woman that had stolen the necklace steal his car as well. He didn't tell Alfred that, just that he was too drunk to drive home. Which stopped any and all questions from the older man.

Bruce closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the cool glass of the window. He let his tongue run along his lower lip, tasting a very faint residue from Selina's lipstick. He had the necklace. She threatened to take it back. She kissed him in a way that won't let him forget it. She had his most expensive car. Currently, she was winning whatever game had started between them.

First the necklace, then his car. He was starting to sense a pattern. Just like the necklace, his Lamborghini came issued with a tracking device. Hopefully, one too advanced for her to disable. Then maybe he had a shot at getting his car back.

* * *

**A/N: Sooo what do you think? Should I keep writing it? Review really quick and tell me what you think :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I felt like the movie really didn't explore or explain Bruce's crippled leg situation very well, and they kinda gave it an easy fix. So mine is a touch more complex. And for everyone who is worried about this just being a rewrite of _The Dark Knight Rises_, let me tell you it very much is not. Yes, I will use some scenes from the movie, as it is how I would have progressed with my story. That is why I have warned about spoilers. Disclaimer's in the first chapter.**

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Chapter Two

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Articular cartilage is the type of cartilage most familiar to arthritis patients. The smooth, white tissue covers the ends of the bones where joints are formed. It acts like a cushion or a shock absorber, and keeps the bones from grinding together.

Over time, cartilage in patients involved in strenuous activities on a daily basis begins to deteriorate, forcing the ends of the bone in the joints to rub harshly together.

If the cartilage is fully lost, the bones would take the full force of the moving joints, causing the joints to become painful, stiff, and limited in their range of motion. Once gone, the cartilage could not be replaced.

Or so his doctor said.

Bruce cracked his neck and rubbed his tired eyes, moving from his spot for the first time in hours. He stood up and walked over to the edge of the platform, staring out at the waterfall. The sound of water crashing onto rocks soothed him, but only slightly. He had been staring at the computer screens in the Batcave since he got back from the doctor, researching different solutions to his leg problem. Apparently his body had taken a harder beating than he had originally thought.

He had literally no cartilage in any of his joints on his leg, and the muscle mass on his arms, torso, and upper thighs had all but vanished.

Guess going from being on his feet all day – and night – to doing literally nothing, all day and all night really wasn't the smartest idea. But after... what happened, _happened_, he couldn't bring himself to move. He would spend days in bed, only rolling out when Alfred threatened to call a shrink. He stopped training, and eventually stopped working out altogether. He probably wouldn't have eaten, either, if Alfred hadn't kept bringing him food. Really good, imported Italian dishes that had probably taken hours to prepare. So really, not eating them would have been an insult.

He went to board meetings at first, but all he did was stare out the window. So he went less and less and then just stopped going, trusting Lucius enough to not run his company into the ground.

He stayed in the media's spotlight and on their radar longer than he thought he would, though. That lasted for a couple years, before he stopped showing up to fundraisers that he really didn't care about, or charities that meant nothing to him, or giving pointless speeches to people who didn't really want to listen. Half the time, he couldn't even bring himself to watch TV. Just stared at either the ceiling or the wall, whichever one was mocking him less.

Up until very recently – if he was being honest, up until Selina kicked his cane out from under him a week ago – his crippled leg hadn't bothered him. It was just something that had happened to him, and he took it in stride, learning to live with it instead of fixing it. It wasn't like he needed to go jumping from rooftop to rooftop anymore.

But that night he realized just how easy it had become to subdue him. She hadn't even touched him! Just kicked out his cane and he was down. Even though she made no further movements toward him, it made him feel weak. Worthless. _Vulnerable_.

He wasn't used to feeling like that. Even before he had become Batman – after he'd grown up a little and understood why his parents had died – he always felt like he had control. Over his company, over his money, over his _life_. Shut up in his house, he still felt like he held a great amount of power. And Selina had shattered that, leaving him vulnerable in his own home.

He ever wanted to feel that again.

Hence the sudden visit to his doctor, followed by at least six hours of intense research. His doctor couldn't recommend – or more likely _wouldn't _recommend – replacing the nonexistent cartilage in his knee with new cartilage. According to him, scientists haven't developed a permanent solution to replacing cartilage in joints, and any or all efforts to replace the cartilage would just postpone the problem, not solve it.

And that's pretty much what every legitimate medical database had told him, too. They could do it, but the new cartilage would only last anywhere from two to four months. Scientists haven't come up with a procedure that would allow the new cartilage to attach itself to the bone permanently. The cartilage would not heal to the bone and would be reabsorbed by the body.

Movement off to his right startled him out of his thoughts. He snapped his head around, feeling his neck ache in protest at the sudden shift in position. Alfred stood on the stone ledge, waiting for the black bridge to fully rise out of the water before he stepped onto it, a tray full of food in his hands. Bruce hadn't even heard him get out of the elevator. When had he gotten so good at sneaking up on him?

As he watched Alfred approach, he realized that Alfred probably hadn't gotten sneakier; his senses had just gotten duller from lack of use.

"Master Wayne, if you are going to make it a habit of eating down here, might I suggest letting me know so that I may refrain from wandering around the whole mansion in search of you."

Bruce rolled his eyes, but let a smile appear on his face anyway. "I'll try to remember next time," he drawled.

"Ah, so there is to be a next time?" Alfred's voice sounded slightly dejected as he set the tray of steaming food onto the table, keeping it away from the computers. "I had hoped this would be a one-time occurrence."

The smell of grilled teriyaki chicken stir fry wafted over to Bruce, and his stomach growled. He rolled the chair over to the tray, mouth watering as he finally noticed how hungry he was. He hadn't eaten anything all day. He pulled the tray closer and picked up the chop sticks that were sitting next to the bowl, and popped a piece of chicken into his mouth, his taste buds exploding over the tangy teriyaki sauce.

"These are some of the fastest and newest computers I own, Alfred," he managed to say around the large mouthful of chicken. "Of course I'm going to come down here to use them."

"The newest models can be found in the second office of the West Wing, sir." _Oh, right._ These models were at least eight years old, actually making them the oldest computers he owned. Somehow, he felt like saying he was more at ease down here in the Batcave wouldn't go over so well with the older man.

He tried to make his voice sound light, but his words came out slightly muffled due to the large chunk of rice he had in his mouth, making his whole response slightly rude. "But do they have four monitors laid out in a grid?"

"Actually, sir, the office has six. Two rows of three, just to your specifications."

_Shit_. He stuffed more food into his mouth and looked around the cave. "I like the scenery." Well, that sounded like pure bullshit, even to his ears. He could tell that Alfred saw right through it, because the older man gave him a look.

Thankfully, Alfred didn't bother calling him out on it. Instead, he moved his gaze to the monitors currently displaying multiple medical databases. "Have you watched this evenings news, sir?"

Bruce shook his head, and motioned to the monitors. "I've been a little preoccupied. Did something happen?"

"Three hours ago, there was an armed robbery at Gotham City Bank."

Bruce raised his eyebrows slightly. "Was anyone hurt?"

"No, all of the hostages were unharmed, and they were in and out in under twenty minutes, getting away perfectly clean. Quite shocking, considering the high security system."

Bruce nodded, taking the bowl with the food in his hand and rolled the chair back to the monitors, setting it down on the table next to the keyboards and ate another chunk of food. "What did they steal?"

Alfred looked disapprovingly at the bowl being so close to the computers, where it could spill and ruin them, before turning his attention back to Bruce. "Well that's just it; they didn't steal anything. They did, however, manage to open every vault in the bank. The police found the vaults wide open when they reached the scene."

_What?_ "And nothing was stolen?"

"Not a single dime, sir."

Bruce glanced questionably up at Alfred. "What kind of thief breaks into every vault and doesn't steal anything?" Selina wasn't planning on stealing anything before she saw the necklace, he reluctantly remembered. She originally broke into his safe to get his fingerprints, but he pushed that thought aside. The situations were different; she ended up stealing the necklace.

"The kind of thief interested in something else. Information."

Bruce slowly nodded, before shrugging his shoulders and turning his attention back to the monitors. Why was Alfred telling him all this? There was nothing he could do.

Alfred just stared at him intently, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. "I thought this news might interest you a little more than it has, sir."

"I'm retired, Alfred. Not much I can do."

"True as that may be, Wayne Enterprises keeps most of the company's money there. It just so happens that it was the only vault not broken into."

That got Bruce's full, undivided attention. His eyebrows raised higher and he turned to face Alfred head on. "Why?"

"That is the question, sir. Either they couldn't open it – which is highly unlikely – or they simply ran out of time. Or they –"

"– found what they were looking for," Bruce finished for him. "Were they caught on camera?"

"Already checked, sir. Most of the men wore ski masks, but the ones that didn't have been positively identified by the police, and warrants are out for their arrest. I had the security footage uploaded and sent to your secure email."

Bruce quickly closed out of his research and pulled up his email, ignoring all of the unread messages that he hadn't bothered to read. He found three files with the footage, opening them up and displaying one on each screen. Three tapes from three different cameras in the main lobby started playing simultaneously. He spent the next several minutes watching the first part of the robbery, skipping over some parts while Alfred watched silently behind him.

They got in easily enough. A few of them just walked straight in and fired a couple rounds into the air, moving all of the hostages to one side of the bank while another man locked the front doors and opened a side door for a small group of men before locking that one too.

All of the men seemed like they were just hired guns. They didn't look like they possessed any abilities other than being able to point and shoot. Except for the man in front of the small group. He was built rather large, with a black mask around his head that covered his mouth and nose. Bruce guessed that he was the boss, because all of the men stopped and looked at him when he entered. The man made huge gestures with his arms and the rest of the men jumped into motion. Definitely the boss.

"This guy seems to be in charge. Glorified missionary from the looks of it," Bruce observed. "Do we know who he is?"

"His name is Bane. That is all the information I could get before being stonewalled by every agency database."

"Really?"

"Yes, though Mr. Fox has been gracious enough to do some digging. Shall I let you know when he finds something?"

Bruce smiled to himself. Of course Lucius Fox would want to do some digging on his own. Finding information was only a matter of time for someone like Lucius. He could get past any security firewall or encryption that was thrown his way. He was one of the best hackers that Bruce knew. And the only one that he trusted.

He really hadn't had a decent conversation with the man in a number of years. Maybe he should change that.

"No, I think it's about time I paid old Lucius a visit. Do you mind setting up a time?"

Alfred was taken by surprise at that, but he smiled. "Not at all, sir."

"Good." Bruce turned his attention away from the security tapes and back to his strenuous research. "And could you look into finding a permanent solution for my leg? I've researched the hell out of it, but maybe you'll find something I overlooked. Then set up another appointment with the doctor."

"Of course, sir."

"And Alfred," Bruce started, before changing his mind, "thank you." He wasn't sure what stopped him from saying his final request, but he felt as though he hadn't properly thanked Alfred in quite some time. And he could let Alfred know later that this was in fact _not_ going to be his last time down in the Batcave.

Alfred seemed to appreciate the gratitude and inclined his head slightly before replying. "You're welcome, sir. Now if that is all, I believe it is time for me to retire for the night." Alfred picked up the tray and Bruce passed him the now empty bowl before turning back to the computer screens.

"Good night, Alfred."

"Good night, Master Wayne. Do try to get some sleep tonight."

Bruce smiled again and listened to Alfred's retreating footsteps before shifting his attention back to the security tapes. The man in charge seemed to really be _in charge_. Throughout the entire robbery, he didn't lift a single finger to help the hired guns. The only thing he did was say a quick speech to the hostages and then moved to watch the other men work.

His stance communicated pure arrogance.

Bruce paused the footage. Why didn't they open the Wayne Enterprises vault? That was the question that bugged him the most. If they had the power to open every other vault in the bank, then why would they leave his vault untouched?

He sighed and pushed his thumbs into his temples. He hadn't slept properly in days. Maybe he should just go to bed and come back to this in the morning. The frozen picture of Bane standing in front of dozens of scared hostages shifted something in him, and he couldn't bring himself to leave. He started the tape from the beginning, and settled in for a long night.

* * *

Bruce drove back to his house in a sort of daze.

He had stayed up until dawn the night before, replaying the footage from the bank over and over until he could map out exactly how they executed their plan. Around eight or so, he dragged himself out of the Batcave and threw himself into bed, only to be awoken around noon by Alfred who claimed to have found a solution to his leg.

The main problem with replacing the cartilage was making the cartilage heal to the bone. When cartilage is replaced or restored, it heals away from the bone, causing the cartilage to expand. Alfred had somehow dug up the perfect solution.

Liquid methyl methacrylate and multiple arthroscopic procedures.

The procedure would be easier than open surgery, and would have less of a recovery time. The surgeon would insert small needles into the joint to implant the cartilage directly onto the surface of the bone, while the liquid methyl methacrylate would work as a bonding agent, permanently cementing the cartilage to the bone.

It's still in the human trial stage, and has not been _officially_ approved by the FDA yet, but many orthopedic surgeons have been recommending it for the worse-off patients.

Alfred then informed him that he made the doctor's appointment for one o'clock, and that if Bruce wanted to make the appointment, he should get up and get ready within the next five minutes.

The doctor had been rather surprised when Bruce presented him with the information. So much that he wanted to research it himself to make sure all the information was correct, but Bruce referred him to a couple of the orthopedic surgeons that were in the building who had successfully completed the procedure on a number of other patients. His doctor still looked skeptical, but eventually relented and scheduled a time for Bruce to come in later that week.

Bruce arrived at his house quicker than he thought he would. As he reached the house, his heart very nearly stopped when he saw a police car sitting in front if the main steps.

His first thought was that something bad had happened to Alfred – like they had been robbed, or he had a heart attack – and worry followed closely by fright thundered in his veins. But there was only one police car. Not two, like if there had been a break-in, or a robbery, or a shooting. And there was no ambulance, so no one needed medical attention.

He willed his heart to slow down as he pulled up behind the police car, seeing that the cop was leaning against the hood with his arms crossed over his chest, body facing the house but his head turned to face him. He had the same type of build as him, with dark hair and light skin that contrasted heavily with the dark blue of his police officer's uniform. He didn't look a day over twenty-three.

Bruce slid out of his car and slowly made his way over to the police officer. He noted the way the cop quickly pushed off of the car and stood up straighter, almost like he wanted to impress him. Or was just nervous to meet _the_ Bruce Wayne. He vaguely remembered having that effect on people.

This kid had one hell of a stare, though.

"Bruce Wayne?"

Bruce stopped a short distance away from the man, already losing interest in why he was here. He wasn't in the mood to talk to the police about anything they might deem important. "In the flesh. Though I am very busy and don't take unscheduled visits, even from the police, so if it's really important you can set up a time and date with my – "

"– butler, yeah he said the same thing. And I told him that I would wait for you out here."

Bruce raised an eyebrow at being cut off. The Wayne family name still commanded some respect, no matter how long he hadn't been heard from. People didn't usually speak so abruptly to him, and he had to admit, it was slightly refreshing. But still very annoying.

"What did you say your name was?"

The man smiled then and stuck out his hand for Bruce to shake. "Officer John Blake, sir." Bruce nodded and shook his hand, mentally filing his name away for future reference. He moved to pull away his hand, but Officer Blake tightened his grip, keeping his hand in his.

"And I know who you really are."

Bruce's blood ran cold. Officer Blake kept the smile on his face, letting go of his hand. Bruce let his hand fall back to his side, clenching it into a fist. He carefully schooled his expression into one of vague confusion while trying not to let any of his fear bleed through, hoping that he heard wrong.

But Officer Blake still noticed the slight shift in Bruce's attitude. "You heard me correctly. Commissioner Gordon doesn't really care who you are. Just appreciates the fact that you helped out the police as much as you did. But you see, we've bet before. It was a long time ago and you probably don't remember, but I've known for years."

Bruce really didn't know what to say to that, so he kept silent. A part of him still hoped that this kid was messing with him, that he was just grasping at straws, but the smarter part of him said that this kid really knew. He wondered if Officer Blake had told this same thing to Alfred, and if that's why Alfred let him wait outside instead of in the main drawing room.

Officer Blake was still waiting for a reply, so Bruce quickly cleared his throat and started making his way up to the front doors. "Why don't we take this inside?" What else could he do, exactly?

Officer Blake nodded slowly before he turned and followed at a slight distance.

* * *

**A/N: Please let me know what you think! And if you have any ideas for the plot, I would love to hear them. I want to know what you as readers want to get out of this story as well.**


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